


Firecracker With a Long Fuse

by sksdwrld



Series: Asterisk [23]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot and Paul have a conversation after Elliot's cousins wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firecracker With a Long Fuse

**Author's Note:**

> The wedding took place approximately 3 weeks after Paul and Elliot met.

Elliot had been keyed up since Paul had picked him up early in the afternoon. He looked uncomfortable in church at best, and it had only gone down hill from there. Paul was pretty sure that Elliot had spent more time outside smoking than he had inside with his own family, who seemed perfectly lovely.

After Elliot's third trip outside, Elliot's grandmother, who told Paul to call her Cookie, laid her hand on Paul's arm and said, _Let him go, he'll be back._

So Paul had stayed and laughed at their stories, but when he'd asked to hear one from Elliot's childhood, everyone just twittered awkwardly and grew quiet. Cookie got a strange look in her eye and took a long drink of her iced tea. It was Jude who cleared his throat and told Paul, _Elliot is very private. He doesn't like for us to tell stories that embarrass him, so we try to respect that._

Curious but too polite to dig further, Paul let it go. He nodded and bought Jude a drink and when Elliot came back, asked if he wanted to dance. He didn't, but he let Paul drag him up for a dance or two, begging off to go outside for another cigarette. 

Elliot was too quiet even in the car after the reception and when Paul eased the car to a stop at a red light, he looked over at him. Elliot was twisting his fingers together and idly rubbing his thumb against the fabric of his suit pants, looking like he were far away and caught up in thought. Paul reached out and brushed Elliot's hair back from his face before resting his hand on the back of Elliot's neck. Twitching, Elliot looked over at him and Paul regretted that the light changed because he had to take his hand back in order to manipulate the shift.

"I'm sorry," Elliot said softly.

"For what?" Paul asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"If you had a terrible time."

"I didn't." Paul let go over the stick long enough to give Elliot's hand a squeeze. 

Elliot smiled as though he didn't believe him but squeezed back nonetheless. 

Paul slowed as he approached Elliot's apartment complex and Elliot stopped chewing his lip long enough to ask, "Do you want to come up?"

"If you want me to," Paul said sincerely, "But don't feel obligated to invite me in if you're tired."

"I'd like you to come up," Elliot said, glancing in Paul's direction and the back out the window. "I...I thought maybe you could help me...wind down, if you want to, that is. I mean, if not, it's fine. I can take a valium and call someone else in the morning-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Paul chuckled, trying to make sense of Elliot's rushed garble. "Someone else? For what? What are we talking about here?"

Elliot was quiet for a minute and then he took a deep breath. "There's a woman who I...I pay sometimes and she comes to...with...she...her name is Mistress Jasmine." Elliot put both hands over his face and sighed.

"Oh," Paul rubbed his face and thought about it a moment. "Elliot, I'm not sure it's a good idea..."

"Because of last time?" Elliot interjected. "I swear, that doesn't usually happen."

Paul reached over and rubbed Elliot's arm. "No, not because of that. I know tonight was rough on you, for reasons I don't fully understand, but you've also been drinking, and I'm worried that you haven't really had time to process things properly. Not to mention that I still don't really know you. We haven't discussed anything since the night of the class. I don't know what your limits or triggers are and I don't want to rush into something and hurt you. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." Elliot's voice was small and meek and for a moment, Paul thought he sounded like a lost little boy.

"I'd still like to come up if you don't mind," Paul said, squeezing his arm. "Maybe we could have some tea and catch the late show or something."

"Okay," Elliot replied softly.

Paul parked the car and this time followed Elliot inside instead of leading the way. He hung his blazer on the back of a chair and sat at Elliot's small, round kitchen table. He watched as Elliot puttered around, taking cups and tea bags down from the cabinet while the water heated on the stove.

Elliot's back was a rigid line and his shoulders bunched with tension."Do you take milk? Sugar? Honey? Lemon?"

"No," Paul replied. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"No," Elliot replied curtly, then slumped as he apologized. "I'm sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea."

"It's fine," Paul said, moving the napkin holder from the center of the table to one side. "You know, your family is really wonderful, Elliot," Paul said carefully. "They made me feel welcome. You're very lucky to have them."

"I know," Elliot swallowed and looked at the stovetop. "It's times like these that I really feel like I don't deserve them. But I'm glad they liked you, Especially Jude. He hasn't liked much of anyone that I've dated."

Paul grinned. "Well, I'm glad to have been met with the stamp of approval. Jude seems like a great guy. Very down to earth. I like him too, and Cookie of course-such a sweet lady."

Elliot grimaced slightly and adjusted the tea kettle on the burner. "You can call her Shari, if you want."

Paul sat back in his chair, watching Elliot fidget. He wondered what was so different about Elliot's relationship with his family that he called his grandmother by her first name. "I do believe 'Cookie' is her preferred moniker."

Elliot shrugged. "She's not averse to Shari, and it's...it's awkward if you call her that and I don't."

"So why don't you?"

"It didn't feel right at first, and by the time I was comfortable enough to do so, she was already 'Shari' to me and 'Cookie' still seemed weird."

Frowning, Paul leaned forward again. "What do you mean? I thought you grew up with your grandparents."

"No, I..." Elliot's frown deepened and he reached for the dish towel, twisting it in his hands. "My mother took me away when I was four. I didn't know Shari and Mike until I was nineteen. I lived with them for a few months, and then I went with Hathor Rising. After that was college, and I moved out with Jude after my first year. So... I mean, it wasn't...it wasn't a long time or anything."

"Oh," Paul said thoughtfully, just as the kettle began to whistle. Elliot switched it off and poured the water into the mugs. He set one in front of Paul and carried the other to his place. As he sat down, Paul said, "But I thought your mother died when you were four...and you said you never knew your father. So...who were you living with in the interim?"

Paul wasn't exactly sure how it happened but he watched as Elliot fumbled the teacup in his hands. Swearing and squeaking, Elliot leapt aside just in time for the cup to hit the tabletop and spill it's contents. Paul stood, snatched the dish towel, and threw it on the spreading mess.

"Shit. Shit, I'm sorry...are you okay? Shit, did you get burned?"

"I'm alright, Elliot. I'm fine. Reflexes of a cat. See?" He held up his hands and then looked pointedly at the table. "Have you got another towel?"

Elliot spun on his heel, disappearing into the hallway between the bathroom and bedrooms. He returned with a towel, and when Paul took it from him, saw that Elliot's hands were blotchy and red, and that his shirt was wet and clinging to him in places. "Elliot, are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine," Elliot grumbled, pushing the folded towel into the sopping mess.

Paul inserted himself between Elliot and the table, quickly mopping up the last of the tea before wiping the rim of the table and the floor. Then he threw the towels in the sink, which made Elliot wince. "Let me see your hands," he demanded.

"I said I was fine." Elliot skirted Paul, went to the sink, and after collecting the towels, delivered them to what Paul could only assume was the hamper. When Elliot came back, he had his phone in hand. "Look, I'm sorry. I have to call her now. I can't do this. I'm feeling...I need...something."

Incredulous, Paul stared at Elliot. He had no idea how the man had managed to go from bad to worse in mere minutes, but he couldn't help but feel like he was the one at fault. It took him only moments to arrive at a conclusion and he hoped it wasn't the wrong one. He reached out and closed his fingers over Elliot's, instilling them from shakily punching digits on the touchscreen. "Stop."

Elliot's eyes flicked up at him, full of question, but Paul's firm tone seemed to be enough to keep him quiet.

Paul disengaged the phone from his hands and set it aside. While he examined the angry red marks marring Elliot's knuckles, he tried to explain himself. "What ever I said to upset you, Elliot, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Elliot murmured. "You didn't know..."

"You're right, I don't know...I don't know what I said wrong or how to avoid it in the future. I said I had a good time tonight, and I did, but I can't help but notice that there's one topic that everyone skirts around and that's your childhood." Elliot made a soft sound and tried to pull away but Paul held him firmly. "Stop. I can't make you tell me about it, though whatever it is that you think is too horrible to share, I hope you'll tell me some day. But what I really want to know is; Does this Jasmine know too?"

Elliot was silent for a moment before lowering his eyes. "No."

Paul's mouth fished open and closed briefly. Then he found his voice. "I really don't think that's healthy, Elliot, and it makes me worry about you. Your hands seem okay, by the way. They're not blistering, but I'd like to see your chest." He released Elliot's hands, which moved directly to the buttons on his shirt. Momentarily, Paul was distracted by the column of Elliot's throat, working as he swallowed, but he shook himself out of it. "As I was saying...I don't think it's a good idea for you to throw yourself at this woman's mercy if she doesn't know about your inner demons. That's got potential to be truly damaging, Elliot. What if she says or does the wrong thing while you're in the middle of a scene? I hate to think of the head space you could end up in."

"We've been doing it for awhile," Elliot countered petulantly and tugged his shirt open for Paul's inspection. "She knows what I need."

Paul's thumbs smoothed over the irregular, pink marks on Elliot's sternum. "And what is it that you think you need?"

"I just need to be worked over so I can get out of my head. So I can let it go. I spent years trying dozens of different medications and none of them help me the way this does."

"What medications?"

"For anxiety," Elliot bit out. "Panic disorder, depression...Paxil, Zoloft, Buspar, you name it. They make it so you can't feel, and I need to feel, I need to-" Elliot's voice was ratcheting up in urgency, but when Paul pressed into the burns on Elliot's chest, Elliot hissed. His eyelids fluttered shut and he leaned towards Paul. "Please..."

Paul shook his head. He shouldn't let himself get sucked into catering to Elliot's unhealthy practices, but what was better, leaving him in the hands of some dominant-off-site or taking care of it himself, where he could keep an eye on things? He hadn't even known Elliot for that long, and already, he'd seen more than a fair share of Elliot's insecurities. Was it worth getting wrapped up in someone else's problems?

But when Elliot wasn't caught up in his problems, he was a genuinely nice guy, clever, witty, well-read, and sported an appreciation for the arts. A real catch; someone whose company Paul truly enjoyed. And it seemed to Paul that Elliot had trouble connecting with other people, so that Elliot had already let him in, at least on the fringes, had to mean something.

He nudged Elliot back slightly. "Go change into something comfortable." Elliot sent him another questioning look. Paul nodded. "Whatever you want, whatever you're comfortable in."

Elliot went into his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Paul to wander into the living room and formulate a plan. Elliot had a soft, cream colored sofa with gold throw pillows and a matching wing-backed chair angled toward a modest fireplace and a mantle with a few oil paintings in muted tones. There was a walnut coffee table with a stylized glass top between the sofa and chairs, and Paul pushed it into the center of the room in order to give them more space. When he straightened, Elliot was hovering just beyond the doorframe, looking unsure. He was dressed in a pair of close-fitting, navy blue, jogging bottoms and a worn grey t-shirt that had matching navy blue piping on the edges of the sleeves and the collar.

"Come here," Paul directed, taking Elliot by the arms as he neared and looked him in the eye. "Red, yellow, green dictates play. I'll also stop if you say stop, or if I think things are getting too intense. Okay?" Elliot nodded and rubbed his palms on his thighs. Paul opened his mouth to elaborate but then decided better of it. He led Elliot toward the couch and sat down. Elliot remained standing and started to chew his lip. "Change your mind?" Paul prompted. "It's okay if you have."

"What you must think of me..." Elliot blurted.

"Oh Elliot..." Paul sighed. He leaned forward and caught Elliot's hand, tugging him down on the couch. He didn't know what he could say to reassure the young man and found himself leaning forward, kissing him softly.

Elliot tensed and put his palm on Paul's chest. "I'm sorry, I want to, or just don't think I can right now."

Paul couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. There was no winning with Elliot today, and shuffling a hand through his hair, he sat back. "I think you think too much."

Grimacing, Elliot nodded. "I do. I get hung up in my own head. I worry that I'm screwing everything up. I...we...we haven't spent that much time together, but I really like you," he flushed and looked down. "And it sounds childish, but I want you to like me too. I feel like I screwed things up tonight, and I don't know how to recover from that."

"Look Elliot, you can't live two steps ahead of everything. And relationships...interacting with people, you can only do that now, in the moment you're in. You can't predetermine anyone's reaction to a given situation but your own." Paul slid his hand toward Elliot's and let their little fingers touch. "I like you too. When I've got you alone, you're a really cool guy. You're one of those onion-people, you know, so many layers to get through. But when we're out -like today-you throw up a wall, and I don't understand what you're trying to protect yourself from. It's hard to get through to you then and although it is rather endearing when you bite your lip," Elliot was doing it at the very moment and Paul cupped his chin, smiled, then ran his thumb over Elliot's trapped lower lip. "I feel like you're holding yourself back. Don't hold back. Not with me, please. I want all your layers, even the ones you think might stink."

Elliot barked a laugh that might have been a half-sob and pressed his fingers into his eyelids. "I can't...I can't talk about it with you. It will send you away, screaming, and I don't want you to go just yet. Let me entertain this fantasy just a little bit longer, please."

Paul's eyes skittered back and forth over Elliot as he wondered what Elliot's demons were, and if it were possible that they were as dark as he was making them out to be. He shifted closer still and put his arm around Elliot's shoulders. "What fantasy?"

"That you're really this good of a person and that you really like me the way I am, and that I could..." he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

"What? Tell me..." Paul urged softly.

Elliot's confession was a whisper and his lashes wet with unshed tears. "...that I could be happy."

"Oh, Elliot..." Paul felt his heart twist. Since the night they met, Paul had had his suspicions that the younger man had been in an abusive relationship: _You think you fucked something up...well you didn't, that honor goes to someone else..._

Now, Paul was completely sure of it. He dropped a kiss on the crown of Elliot's head. "You've been hurt before," he said. Elliot only knuckled his eyes and nodded. "I don't want to hurt you, Sweetheart. I want you to be happy, and I want the same for myself. I'm sorry if my presence tonight made things harder for you, but when you asked me to come, I was...I don't know. I was happy that you thought so much of me that you wanted me to meet your family this soon. And I'm so glad I did."

Elliot swallowed and tugged the collar of his shirt. "Me too, really. And I'm sorry if-"

"Stop," Paul said, putting his thumb on Elliot's mouth. "No more apologies tonight. Just relax."

"I don't think I-"

"You _can_ ," Paul said. "Do you trust me?"

"I...what?" Elliot's eyebrows went up. "Of course I trust you. I mean, as much as I can, at this point. I've known you for a month; I let you inside my home and you've tied me up in a compromising position in a roomful of my peers." Paul chuckled. Elliot's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Paul waved callously. "Do me a favor. Turn on the tv...Put on something mindless. No news, no documentaries..."

Elliot got up and retrieved the remote from the mantle, then handed it directly to Paul. "I only have a few channels..." he said sheepishly.

Paul turned the television on and clicked through the handful of stations, finally deciding on a French production with clowns and canned audience laughter. It was that or a game show in Spanish, but the garish dresses the women wore were a little too distracting, he felt. Then, he eased onto the floor, leaning back against the couch, and patting the floor in front of him, said, "Come on, sit here."

Hesitantly, Elliot lowered himself into place. He startled when Paul reached for him, digging his thumbs into either side of Elliot's neck. "Relax and let it go..." Paul prompted. "Relax and let it go."

He massaged Elliot's neck and shoulders, then his scalp. Slowly, the tension ebbed away from Ellliot's muscles and by the time Paul had reached Elliot's lower back, the younger man was quite plaid and swaying gently with Paul's ministrations. A soft hum escaped him and Paul stopped abruptly. The last time he'd heard Elliot make that sound was at the rope tying class. "Elliot?"

"Yes?" Elliot said and rocked gently back into Paul's hands. "Why did you stop?"

Paul laughed and leaned against Elliot, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the nape of his neck. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thank you..." Elliot murmured, angling his head and exposing the curve of his throat.

Paul followed the cue and lowered his head once more, peppering kisses from behind Elliot's ear to the junction of his shoulder, and pulling aside Elliot's collar, laved the warm skin there. The resultant moan was nearly wanton and unreserved and it made Paul's cock twitch to life. He chuckled again and breathed in Elliot's ear, "I swear that wasn't a ploy just to get in your pants..."

"I don't care if it was," Elliot husked. He leaned forward and stripped off his shirt then turned on his knees. Now, though Elliot's skin was flushed, his eyes were bright and earnest. He ran his hands over Paul's arms to his biceps. "For everything you've done tonight, you deserve-"

"You don't owe me anything, Elliot," Paul said, grabbing Elliot's hands as they reached for his tie, still knotted though loosened.

"Let me do this," Elliot whispered. "Please, I want to."

"I don't want to be on your payroll..." Paul emphasized again.

"It's not a payment," Elliot promised, licking his lips. "And you can't...it's not fair to get me all worked up and then push me away."

Paul's eyes dropped downward. There was no denying the obvious tent in Elliot's jogging pants. "It wasn't my intention," Paul said again, but released Elliot's hands in favor of stroking his palms down Elliot's torso to his hips. "I should probably go..."

Elliot had the knot of Paul's tie undone and the material wisping away from his collar in moments. Fleetingly, Paul thought about using it to truss Elliot's wrists together, but that was another game for another time. "Stay," Elliot said, sliding his mouth along Paul's jaw. "Stay and let me show you what I'm good at."

Elliot's mouth was impossibly hot and the tip of his tongue flickered gently, and Paul already had a good idea what it was that Elliot was probably good at. He almost hated himself for wanting it so badly. Almost, but not quite.

Elliot tugged Paul's shirt from his pants and deftly undid the buttons from bottom to top. Paul's breath quickened as Elliot's mouth moved over his Adam's apple to his collarbone, and after administering a languid kiss, Elliot dug his fingers into Paul's belt buckle and sat back. "Did you have somewhere else to be?" Paul shook his head. Elliot gave his belt buckle another tug. "Then you don't mind if I...?"

Shaking his head again, Paul grinned. "God, you're like a firecracker with a long fuse...and just when I think the fire's gone out..."

Elliot stripped the belt off and sent it the way of the tie then smirked at Paul. "I blow?"


End file.
